


My Funny Valentine

by brokopenko



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, basically all the potential triggers for the show, connor didn't finish the milk, demiromantic connor, if something in the canon triggers you probably don't read this, rated m mostly for connor's language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-03-18 20:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13689594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokopenko/pseuds/brokopenko
Summary: Connor's failed suicide attempt lands him in mandatory group therapy sessions where he's met with none other than Evan. They're both desperate to connect, but don't know how.





	1. Sweet comic valentine

**Author's Note:**

> You know how DEH put that playlist of songs Connor Murphy listens to on Spotify? It included a song called My Funny Valentine by Chet Baker and if anyone tries to tell me it was about anyone except Evan I will fight them (each chapter will be titled with one line from the song). Anyway, enjoy this mess of mental health issues and gayness. I promise it will get less sad gradually but you'll have to work for it because mental health, just like relationships, requires work and patience and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry only the first 3 paragraphs are in italics because it's supposed to be a memory

_Turns out if you try to kill yourself because life is a constant stream of excruciating pain and just pure shit people will freak out. You’d think so at least, in your own selfish way we all hope after we die the people and the world around us will go awol and grieve, wishing they could turn back time and save you. The truth is rather underwhelming and it turns out only your doctors and maybe two teachers care for approximately one day. At least that’s Connor’s case. His parents were irritated at best for having to pay for his stay in the hospital and the ambulance in which they had to pump his stomach to get rid of the outstanding amount of sleeping pills Connor took. His parents still thought he was faking all of his issues to get attention and his sister barely looked at him._

_After waking up in the hospital the first thing Connor felt was anger. Not gratitude that he was still alive like most people would but anger and frustration at the fact that he was once again unsuccessful. He’ll have to jump off a bridge next time, that will be instant death and won’t leave anyone time to call for help. The last thing Connor remembers was chugging down an entire bottle of sleeping pills his mother took, (undoubtedly a sign of healthy and happy All-American suburban mom, right?) and leaning his back against a tree to look up at the sky as darkness started to take over. Everything was spinning and it felt like he was falling further and further down, away from reality._ **_Bliss_ ** _. But no, of course, Connor can’t even fucking kill himself properly._

 _He was met with Larry’s clearly pissed off face and his mom’s concerned eyes. The thing is, whenever Connor does something exceptionally violent of stupid, Cynthia gets this_ **_look_ ** _where her eyebrows are slightly pinched and her eyes are all pathetic and sad and it just drives Connor insane with irritation. Zoe wasn’t even there, of fucking course, she was probably too busy texting in the hallway or at jazz band practice or whatever the hell she does with her life. Larry starts drilling him with the usual “What were you thinking, you almost gave your mother a heart attack!” nonsense that Connor decided to drown out immediately until a nurse barged in, telling Larry to shut up and that Connor needed rest. Connor smirked slightly, feeling his eyes get heavy with exhaustion, because that nurse deserves a high five for telling Larry off, what a woman. He rolled his stiff shoulders back and passively listened, hoping sleep would grant him an escape soon, to the conversation a doctor that appeared out of nowhere was having with his parents. The doctor insisted on keeping Connor hospitalised for at least another day and when Larry tried to argue she sternly told him there was nothing_ **_to_ ** _argue_ **_about_ ** _and Connor had to stay, then she suggested, quietly that Connor should stay at their mental health department for a week at which Larry got visibly red and vehemently insisted that there was_ **_nothing_ ** _wrong with his son and he was just being a problematic teenager and at that point Connor heard enough and seriously wished his mother would stop throwing worried looks his way or that the bed could swallow him whole._

“Would you like to introduce yourself to the rest of the group?” a therapist’s voice woke Connor up from reliving the memory of the reason why he was forced to sit in a room full of pathetic broken teens and share his internal turmoil or some bullshit. He looked up from his knees where he kept fixated his unfocused gaze since he sat down, his face staying the emotionless mask he no longer took off.

“Go ahead,” the therapist (What was her name? Mindy? Millie? M-something. Connor couldn’t remember.) encouraged him with practised calm and warmth that seemed fake to him. He could hear a faint buzzing in his ears coming from nowhere in particular and the sun coming through the window made him too warm. The plastic chair underneath him, coated in unnecessarily bright and happy colour, grew more uncomfortable the more he thought about it and the teens sitting in a circle around him kept staring at Connor, making him want to scratch his forearm. He breathed in, squeezed his eyes shut and opened them as he breathed out.

“I’m Connor, and I’m here because I took a bunch of pills and didn’t die.” _I also fucking hate myself._ He added in his head upon hearing his voice out loud. He should have kept quiet, who cares he’d look like a freak who can’t talk?

Mumbles of, “Hi, Connor,” echoed around the room as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t interested in anyone in the room and averted his glance back to his knees. Connor tuned out the sound of the kid next to him introducing themselves, something about anxiety, fucking welcome to the club.

He was in the middle of peeling off the black nail polish on his left thumb, trying to tune out the buzzing and the feeling of being observed, when a familiar voice sounded in his ears.

“H-hi, I’m Evan and I have… I can’t talk to people like a normal person?” said a boy in a polo shirt and a hoodie, who was sitting hunched on a chair four seats away from Connor, and laughed awkwardly. Before realising _why_ he knew the voice, Connor let out a quiet chuckle against his own will, because _same_ . When he looked up at the boy and glared as realisation came to him. Half of Hansen’s face was illuminated by the sun coming through cracks in the blinds and his nervous smile scrunched in discomfort. How did he manage to look so nerdy and yet like a fucking angel? Evan’s eyes flicked through the room and met Connor’s briefly in what could only be described as terror. Connor immediately looked down again. Fuck. What the fuck was _he_ doing here? At least he had the hoodie on which hit the cast on his arm that undoubtedly still had ‘CONNOR’ written on it, reminding Connor how much of an asshole he truly was, shooting spikes of _something_ through his brain. The guy was obviously a nervous wreck, but Connor would never guess he had enough issues to be here. He wasn’t going to talk during these group sessions anyway, but looking at Evan, Connor felt guilt for what feels like the first time in years.

 _“You’re the fucking freak!”_ Connor could hear his own voice from two weeks ago as he yelled at Hansen before pushing him to the ground. _“Now we can both pretend that we have friends” “Fuck you”_ He really was the shittiest person alive, wasn’t he? Well, maybe besides like actual serial killers, pedophiles, rapists, and conservative politicians, but you know, close enough. Connor sighed. He remembered that day vividly because it was that evening he finally stopped being a coward and decided to take the stolen sleeping pills. When he found Hansen in the computer room, he was approaching him to apologise but it turned out he’s pathetic at communication and started with _“So, what happened to your arm?”_ instead of _“Sorry I pushed you to the ground,”_ like he wanted. Now Connor couldn’t stop looking at the cast on Hansen’s arm, hidden underneath his hoodie. He could have been dead right now and all that would be left of him would be that signature on Hansen’s cast. Some other screwed up kid would be sitting in his place and no one would notice. He rolled his head from side to side, hearing his neck crack and breathed in. He _should_ be dead.

***

Evan stood outside a room at their local mental health hospital. It had a piece of paper taped to the door not very neatly, with _Group Therapy - 16-19 year-olds_ printed on it in Comic Sans. Evan still had 3 minutes before the session started and with each passing second he spent staring at the closed door, he was considering just not going more and more. His palms were sweaty and his heart was beating fast, but he couldn’t tell if he was having an anxiety attack or if this was just his normal state of being at this point. Why would his mom and Nina, his therapist, suggest a group therapy with his _peers_ out of everything? He really, really didn’t wanna do this but if he didn’t go he could get in trouble. He can just sit and be quiet. No one will _make_ him talk, right? At least that’s what Nina said. Evan tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie and counted to three. He will survive this.

He reluctantly pushed the door open and made a beeline for one of the remaining free seats. At least he didn’t trip. Good. He looked around, surveying the room. There were badly done drawings of flowers on the pinboards and the walls were painted in soft yellow and green. It was clearly a room meant for younger people and the group of late-teens looked comically out of place in it. Evan moved to scanning the people who were sitting on the plastic chairs of different colours. No one seemed familiar until his eyes stopped on Connor Murphy. Oh, _shit,_ Connor Murphy was here. He was sitting a few places away, frowning at his legs like they were the reason he was miserable, under eye bags bigger than Texas and more purple than Barney the dinosaur (really Evan, that’s the only purple thing you can think of?), and his hair still long and pretty (that’s _gay_ , Evan). Oh, fuck. Evan suddenly found his own sneakers very interesting. He did notice Connor wasn’t in school since That Day and while it was obvious that he had issues he really didn’t think it was because of anything serious. What if he thinks Evan is stalking him once he recognizes him? What if he realises Evan is actually a giant freak and hate him forever? Evan wouldn’t blame him, to be honest. Was it getting really hot in there all of a sudden? The afternoon sun was shining on Evan’s right cheek, hot and bright. He moved back a bit to escape the rays but only ended up more blinded. His cheek was getting hot and his palms were sweaty and before he had time to brace himself if was Connor’s turn to introduce himself.

The therapist who was in charge of coordinating the group called to him twice and Connor kept staring at her with no interest, looking vaguely pissed off and bored. He blinked slowly and said, “I’m Connor, and I’m here because I took a bunch of pills and didn’t die.” It always surprised Evan how soft Connor’s voice was. A funny contrast to Connor’s exterior and _what_ he usually said. Just like then when Evan heard him confess he tried to kill himself. If that’s what he meant. Thinking Evan _hoped so_ seemed too fucked up. It’s more that Evan hoped he understood what Connor meant right. Oh god, he’s a disaster. Evan mentally smacked himself. Oh god, that’s why Connor wasn’t in school since the day he signed his cast. Evan suddenly felt very guilty for not running after Connor and trying to explain to him he wasn’t some creep who wrote letters about people who pushed them to the ground. He could have talked to him, told him it was for therapy and maybe if he saw that Evan was fucked up too they could be friends? Not that someone like Connor would want to be Evan’s friend. Scratch all of that, that was stupid. Anyway, Evan could have done _something._ At least Connor was still alive, that meant Evan could try again.

Evan spent so much time trying to figure out why Connor tried to die and how it could all go differently he didn’t notice it was his turn to speak and completely forgot to prepare what he was going to say and in a panic just blurted out the first thing he thought of.

“H-hi, I’m Evan and I have… I can’t talk to people like a normal person?” He laughed nervously to try and make it obvious he was joking but wished the ground would swallow him whole immediately after. Why did his brain decide to try to be funny _now_ of all times? Jesus fucking Christ. Then he heard a quiet chuckle. It was unmistakably Connor’s. Even his laugh was soft, what the fuck? Was he laughing at Evan or was he laughing because he found what Evan said funny? It sounded like he just found it funny. Does he remember Evan?

He looked up and met Connor’s eyes for a brief second before Connor looked away and he swore he _knew_. Evan swallowed nervously, even though his mouth was drier than Sahara. He vowed he wouldn’t talk until the session was over.

 _Today Connor Murphy pushed you because you’re a mess and shouldn’t be allowed in public. But that’s okay._ Why did he have to write that in his letter? Why wasn’t he quicker in getting to the printer? Connor came there to apologise and maybe talk to him and Evan clearly ruined it that day with his stupid letter. _“Now we can both pretend that we have friends”_ Evan still heard Connor’s voice in his head and he subconsciously tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie to cover his cast further. Maybe they could actually become friends after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave kudos and comments if you want to read more or if you liked any line in particular :') <3  
> also if you want to check out my art instagram https://www.instagram.com/teddyblk_/


	2. You make me smile with my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my midterms are approaching so the next update might be a couple of days late but hopefully not

The group therapy sessions were coming to an end. It’s been three weeks and four sessions since it first started and Evan managed to speak up only once through them all besides that one disaster of an introduction. His plan to befriend Connor Murphy that he tasked himself with on that day wasn’t going great, to say the least. Every time he walked in, with practised lines on the tip of his tongue, determined to speak to him, he froze as soon as he saw Connor, always sitting on the same chair, glaring daggers at his feet, and just sat down silently in defeat.

But at the last session, something possessed Evan to do the unimaginable. He walked in, restlessly scratching his index finger and made a spur of the moment decision to sit down next to Connor. Weirdly enough, Connor was always there before Evan and haven’t missed a single session. A good attendance was never something anyone associated with Connor so Evan believed he was there out of obligation and would probably get in trouble if he skipped. Or maybe his parents drove him there every time and made sure he didn’t leave only five minutes after dropping him off. Whatever. It wasn’t like that was any of Evan’s business. They weren’t even friends or anything, but he still couldn’t help but wonder.

As soon as this train of thought died in Evan’s head, the realisation of what he’s done sunk in and he scratched his index finger more rapidly. What the fuck did he do? Evan you idiot. He glanced over to his left, where Connor was sitting, only for long enough to notice Connor looking at him with a puzzled expression. He didn’t look completely pissed off, Evan was pretty sure Connor could never look not angry at all, so Evan took it as a positive sign. He gulped and focused his gaze on the lamp outside the window, trying to even out his breathing. Everything was _fine_. Connor probably doesn’t think it’s too weird.

“So. Uh… These sessions suck, right?” Connor mumbled suddenly and Evan almost fell off his chair in surprise. It took him a while to even register that he was talking to Evan but there was no one sitting on Connor’s left side and he said it too quietly to be addressing the rest of the room (which was very unlikely on its own, to be honest). Connor not getting angry at him for sitting next to him was one thing. But Connor starting a conversation was something Evan never thought would happen after the computer room incident.

“Yeah, totally,” Evan started, trying to sound nonchalant but failing spectacularly, “I mean if my… uh, mom and Ni-... my therapist didn’t make me go I would never even consider it. I mean why would anyone think group therapy for someone with social anxiety was a good idea?” He let out a short breathy laugh, already regretting saying anything beyond ‘yeah’. He looked over at Connor who was studying him like he was trying to figure something out, and Evan scratched his finger, feeling like he was under surveillance.

Connor frowned and the right corner of his mouth tugged upwards in something resembling a smirk. “Same,” he mumbled quietly and sighed. Connor’s eyes shifted towards Evan’s cast which was once again hidden underneath a sleeve. Only the big sloppily written ‘C’ was peeking out from beneath the stretchy fabric. Evan noticed where Connor was looking and fought his instinct to hide his cast completely. He watched as Connor’s frown deepened and then glanced up to meet Evan’s eyes. Maybe it was just Evan looking for things that weren’t really there but he felt like Connor was trying to silently apologise for his outburst. Or for signing his cast at all? Who knew?

Both Evan and Connor opened their mouths at the same time to start saying something but Miley beat them to it with her welcoming everyone loudly to the last therapy session. Evan smiled at Connor weakly while Connor gave Miley the nastiest side-eye Evan’s ever seen, sighed again and shifted in his chair so he was facing the circle and not Evan once again. So there went Evan’s chance. _Thanks_ , Miley.

***

It’s been three weeks and six sessions and Connor was still miserable. Absolutely nothing has changed and one of the only reasons why he wasn’t actively trying to kill himself again was the fact that he was under strict house arrest. This meant his mother drove him to and out of school as well as his group therapy and they locked all knives, razors and pills away from him. It felt suffocating and with each passing day, Connor grew more and more agitated. It was like he was a prisoner in his own fucking house.

His emotions were all over the place and every time anyone tried to speak to him he snapped at them and if they were exceptionally pissing him off, he’d throw the nearest object at them. This behaviour has successfully banned him from family dinners, which he was honestly grateful for, because every second he spent in Larry’s immediate vicinity, he felt his rage boil and raise in his chest and every time he heard his sister’s high pitched condescending voice he saw red. Looking back at the entirety of last month the only person he actually initiated a conversation with and have not yelled at so far was Evan Hansen. Which is something he never expected form himself but I guess near-death experiences really do change people. It’s not that they were friends or that Connor particularly _liked_ Evan, but he seemed to look at Connor and be able to see through his constantly enraged facade. And maybe Connor was just making things up. That didn’t matter anyway since the sessions came to an end and he’d probably never talk to him again. Therapy was useless, just as Connor predicted. Or maybe he was just an incurable fuck that deserved the pain as a payment for all the pain he seemed to be causing everyone around him. Yeah, that was probably it.

Connor was sitting on his windowsill, his legs dangling off the edge, and he breathed in the cool air of September night. He scratched his forearm, welcoming the burn that followed. He wished his window was high enough for him to die immediately after landing on the ground if he jumped. _The Cure_ was playing from the speakers behind his back and he wished he had some weed left to dull the buzzing in his head and the shaking of his hands. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and their neighbour’s lawn sprinkler went off. Connor lifted his hands above his head. His pale skin was softly illuminated by the stars and the light coming from his room. The nail polish on his fingers was so chipped it was barely there on half of his fingers, and his knuckles were bruised and bloody from regularly trying to punch a hole in his bedroom’s wall. He felt them shake but not from the cold but he didn’t put them down until the shaking was almost too much. He felt tears of anger? (Pain? Guilt? Sadness? He didn’t know.) well up in the corner of his eyes and he retreated his legs from the outside in order to hug his knees close to him. Connor let the sobs shake his shoulders as he scratched his forearm until they passed. Everything felt like it was too much and yet nothing felt like anything. Nothing ever changed and nothing ever would.

Monday came around and Connor was sitting in his mother’s car after having to be physically dragged out of bed by Larry which ended in a lot of yelling and Connor threatening to kill everyone if they made him go to school but going to school anyway after seeing Zoe stand in the hallway, terrified. She had the same look on her face she used to have when Larry got really angry when they were only nine or ten and would beat Connor up for talking back to him and disobeying rules when she was scared because Larry would turn at her after she begged him to leave Connor alone. But this time she wasn’t looking at Larry, she was looking at him. Connor felt sick. He felt dirty and disgusting, and yet he couldn’t give less of a fuck because at least this way they _knew_ there was something really fucking wrong with him. After that, Connor smashed a nearby vase, made by Cynthia in her pottery classes which she took up as another one of her hobbies that never lasted a year before, into pieces. It was an ugly vase anyway. Connor was listening to _Beastie Boys_ as loudly as possible and watched the trees and houses that blurred around them as Cynthia drove him to school. She kept glancing at him, every minute or so, with a worried expression. Connor wished she’d stop. He wasn’t sure if it was her ‘I wish my son would talk to me instead of lashing out only so I could give him some bullshit advice I read in a self-help book once and think he’s cured’ look or ‘I’m scared that my son will lash out at me while I’m driving’ look. Either way, Connor was not interested.

The car finally pulled up in the parking lot of their school and his mother killed the engine. Connor knew very well that she did that because she’d be staying there until at least ten minutes after his classes start so she would be sure he didn’t try to sneak out. He opened the door and got out, before slamming the door behind and completely ignoring his mother calling, “Have a good day!” behind him. _Yeah, fuck you._

Only minutes later, he was sitting in his usual seat in one of the only two AP classes he was in which was Literature, the second one being Art. You would assume with the amount of skipping school and turning up to classes high as shit he would be lucky to be even passing but those were the only subjects he gave half a fuck about which turned to be more than enough to surpass the average. He took out a Sharpie out of his pocket and started writing the word ‘fuck’ in tiny letters on the back of the chair in front of him until the teacher walked in and started speaking. He pulled the hood over his head, leaned against one of his arms, and tuned out whatever she was saying.

Connor looked around the classroom in search of something that he could use to occupy his mind when he spotted a patch of familiar light hair accompanied by a frown. Holy shit, Evan Hansen. To be fair, Connor hasn’t been exactly in touch with his surroundings since school started considering he was too focused on the whole issue of almost killing himself. So to say he didn’t give a shit about who he shared classes with would be an understatement. But he had to admit seeing Evan fidgeting with a pen only two seats away made him feel strangely grateful.

“I’m going to call out names in pairs and that’s who your project partner will be,” Connor registered the teacher, Mrs Prentiss, saying. _Oh no._ “You’re going to choose one of the books on the AP reading list and do a thorough analysis on a topic of your choice, which you will then present to the class,” Mrs Prentiss instructed. _Please, no._ She started listing the names and Connor sat up slightly, in anticipation. Not that it mattered, he wouldn’t try anyway. Plus it’s not like anyone would willingly work with him.

“Connor Murphy and Evan Hansen,” she announced.

Scratch being grateful. This was a disaster. Connor turned to look at Evan who nervously smiled at Connor. Why the fuck was he smiling at him? Shouldn’t he be terrified to be paired with a whackjob like him? _Hansen is fucking weird._ Connor thought but felt the corner of his lips tug into a tiny half-grin involuntarily anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you're enjoying this story so far :) if you are please leave me a comment as those really do make my day <3


	3. Your looks are laughable

“Connor Murphy and Evan Hansen.” _Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw._ Evan couldn’t decide if the pairing was the best or the worst option he could have gotten. On one hand Connor was the only person in the class he actually spoke to at least twice in his life but on the other hand, he had a feeling this would be incredibly awkward because of where their last conversation took place. Also, Connor was just… so _pretty_ and Evan was so _gay_ which meant he would be extra nervous around him which heightened the risk of Evan rambling and saying something incredibly embarrassing or stupid. Oh no, Connor is looking at him and he does not look pleased. But also when does Connor ever look pleased?

Evan took a deep breath and smiled at Connor, hopefully making it clear he wasn’t upset to be paired up with him. Maybe this was a way the universe was giving him a second chance at reaching out to Connor and hopefully make friends after his disaster of an attempt in therapy. Connor looked at him, confused for a second and then smiled back ever so slightly, almost as if he was too scared to let anyone else see that the weird angry loner Connor Murphy was capable of smiling. The thought of Connor being concerned about what others thought of him was as ridiculous as it was heart-wrenching.

Evan impatiently eyed the clock on the wall behind Mrs Prentiss. He still had ten minutes to think about how to approach Connor after class. Should he ask for his number so they could discuss the details of their project? Should he invite him over to his house so they could start working on it? Will Connor even _want_ to do any work? Evan didn’t want to be mean but Connor didn’t seem to be the most attentive student out there. Shit. They’re supposed to present their project in front of the class. Fuck no. Evan would gladly produce three essays but there was no way he would be able to speak in front of the whole class and he seriously doubted Connor would be too keen on doing that either.

He gripped his phone in his pocket as he heard the school bell go off and rushed to put his books into his backpack as people around him scrambled off their chairs and headed for the door. Looking around, he scanned the crowd for Connor and panicked for a second when he couldn’t see him as he tugged on the zipper in frustration.

“Hey,” Connor’s voice echoed from his side and Evan fought back the scared jump his body was about to make. It’s not that he was scared of Connor (okay, he might be a tiny bit scared of him but it’s not because he thinks Connor is dangerous or some sort of freak but come on Connor did everything in his power to appear menacing and unfriendly) it was just that he didn’t expect Connor to stay behind to talk to him.

“Hello. I mean, Hi,” Evan said, his voice sounding way more high pitched than he’d like it to. He put on his backpack and hoped Connor would continue talking.

“You probably want to like, work on this thing, right?” Connor asked but before Evan had the chance to respond, he continued, which was Evan kind of glad for because he had no idea what he’d respond with. “If it was just me I wouldn’t do it but I’m not gonna be a dick that will drag you down with me or make you do it all by yourself,” Connor gripped the strap of his bag and glared at something behind Evan’s back who had to fight the urge to turn around and see what he was glaring at.

“Thanks. Yeah, that’s cool. I wouldn’t mind doing it by myself, though.” Evan said and laughed breathlessly as they started to walk out of the classroom together. He shot a glance in Connor’s direction, who was shooting murderous glances at everyone passing them by. Right. There were people in the hallways. Evan just hoped nobody would make jokes about the two school freaks hanging out together. They should have just stayed behind and talked this through in the classroom. But then they might have risked missing their next period. And while Connor probably didn’t give a fuck about that, Evan did and very much so.

“Fuck,” Connor sighed and muttered, “I’m trying to do the right thing, Hansen!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that I didn’t want your help but if you don’t wanna work with me that’s cool I’ll just do it, but you already said you wanted to do it so I’m shutting up now. Sorry,” ranted Evan and tried to even out his breathing after saying all of that in one go.

“Whatever.” Connor shrugged, “I’m on house arrest though, and as much as I hate my house, I hate the library more so if you want to, come over today after school and we can start working on it?” he said, almost hesitantly. Connor Murphy really was a mystery.

“Yeah. That sounds okay. Okay, but I’ll have to ask… I’ll have to text my mom first,” Evan said looking at the floor in front of them and tugged on his backpack straps. What he thinks he’s some fucking loser that has to ask his mom’s permission for everything? He wouldn’t be wrong.

“That’s cool. Meet me in front of the main entrance after the last period,” Connor instructed and glanced around as he scratched his forearm through his sleeves, “See you, Evan.” And he was gone.

 _Did he just call me Evan?_ Evan stood there, in the middle of the busy hallways and watched Connor’s tall dark frame, meander through the crowd, further away from him. Someone bumped Evan’s shoulder, which made him jump slightly.

“Chill, Evan. It’s just me.” Jared’s familiar face appeared in front of Evan as he laughed. “Did I actually see you talking to Connor fucking Murphy?” He elbowed Evan’s arm and gestured him to follow him to the Biology classes they shared. “Was he like, threatening to kill you if you didn’t do his homework or something? Not that I _care_ ,” Jared kept on talking and Evan might be a very polite person due to anxiety and a pacifist in general, but he really wanted to smack Jared’s face then.

“No. In fact… We’ve actually been talking about our Literature project,” Evan said slightly defensively, “He’s actually kind of n-okay,” Evan finished more quietly and frowned at his shoes, not wanting to look at Jared who was undoubtedly making mockingly shocked faces. He was dangerously close to calling Connor ‘nice’, but he didn’t want Jared getting _ideas_ and he also thought Connor would probably fight him if he ever heard someone called him ‘nice’.

“You do know he’s going to murder you if you go to his house, right? Wait. Did you say _Connor Murphy_ was okay? Did he brainwash you? Are you sure it wasn’t Zoe, borrowing her freak brother’s hoodie?”

“Shut up, Jared.” Evan rolled his eyes.

Jared gasped and clutched his Darth Vader t-shirt over his heart. “Who are you and what have you done with Evan? Did Connor teach you this? ” He laughed and Evan was incredibly grateful for the bell that just went off. It spared him more of Jared’s comments about Connor’s questionable mental health state, which he seriously did not need to hear.

***

The last period ended with a mass of students pooling out of the school’s main entrance. The sky was already starting to colour in pink and Connor was sitting on the railing next to the stairs. He heard a group of Sophomores laugh a few feet away from him. Maybe they were laughing at him, maybe they weren’t. Connor couldn’t bring himself to focus on them. He was too busy enjoying the feeling of the autumn wind on his face. His hands were trembling, not from the cold but the smoking withdrawals since he wasn’t able to get high or even smoke a regular cigarette in two weeks, so he hid them in his pockets. He should get some weed soon.

After waiting for five minutes and seeing Cynthia’s car enter the parking lot, Connor sighed. He should have given Hansen his number. God, he was so fucking dumb. Just when he was about to walk over to his mother’s car and ask her to wait for a bit more, he heard Evan’s voice from the stairs.

“Hey!” He walked swiftly over to Connor, smiling. His cheeks were red and he was chewing his bottom lip. “Sorry I’m… Sorry, you had to wait. The teacher was just…,” He gestured with his hand vaguely, “I got caught up with something.”

Connor frowned at him skeptically and shrugged. “Whatever. Come on, my mot… my mom will drive us,” he said and started walking towards the car in which Cynthia was not so subtly looking out for Connor in the crowd, probably trying to figure out if Evan was his drug dealer or something. Even the thought of Hansen trying to deal drugs was so comical Connor couldn’t help but grin.

“Your mom?” Evan asked with panic in his voice. Right. Connor almost forgot Evan had an issue with talking to people. By ‘almost forgot’ Connor meant he was painfully aware of it but didn’t think it would be a problem since he seemed to be doing pretty fine around Connor.

“Yeah. I got my car taken away after… A few weeks ago.” The quiet that followed between them was so heavy, Connor almost choked on it. Of fucking course, Evan would know why they took away his car. Fuck. Connor scratched his forearm through his sleeve, welcoming the dull burn. “Sorry about my mom. She’s kinda embarrassing.”

Evan snorted, “I’m sure she’s nothing compared to my mom.”

Connor grinned at him, “You be the judge.” He shrugged and opened the car door without another word.

The ride to the Murphys house was awkward to say the least. Cynthia kept throwing suspecting glances Evan’s way at first which did not help Evan’s already anxious state. After she interrogated him for a while and realised that yeah, Evan Hansen was definitely _not_ a rebellious teen like her son she became overly enthusiastic about the potential of Connor having friends. By the time they pulled into their driveway Evan was a wreck and he kept glancing nervously at Connor, scared to wrongly answer any of Cynthia’s questions on how they met and what were Evan’s plans for the future.

“Jesus, give him a break. We’ve been going to the same school for four years, neither of us knows how we met for the first time,” Connor answered the last one, annoyed. He rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat. He really didn’t feel like telling his mother the story of how he pushed Evan, yelled at him, and then met him in group therapy and he was sure Evan didn’t want to be reminded of that either. Connor’s and Evan’s eyes met briefly and Connor shook his head in silence as he tried to make his face not as angry as it normally looked, not wanting to spook Evan even more. He himself barely understood why was he acting so considerate towards Hansen when he barely registered anyone else’s emotions.

Connor sighed in relief when they _finally_ pulled into their driveway. The car barely came to a stop and he was already opening the door. As soon as he was out he felt better. He hated having to be so close to his mother in a space he couldn’t get out of. Evan was following him to their house like a lost puppy, tugging at the bottom of his shirt and looking around. Connor didn’t know what Evan saw but to him, the Murphy family house was like a prison. The interior was kept clean and pristine and there were too many expensive objects that got used too seldom. Everything evidently had a place and yet Conor never truly felt like he belonged.

“Do you boys want some snacks? Anything to drink?” Cynthia asked sweetly.

“Maybe later,” shrugged Connor, headed for the stairs and tugged on Evan’s sleeve lightly to get him to follow, “We’ll be in my room.” He couldn’t hear Cynthia’s response and he didn’t particularly care.

“Your mom seems nice,” Evan said politely when they were out of her earshot.

Connor shrugged in response and mumbled, “Maybe.” His steps sounded a bit louder on the stairs after that. He didn’t even know why the thought of Evan being able to tolerate his mother’s presence made him so angry. _Stop being a little bitch, Connor._ He told himself as he guided Evan through their upstairs corridor to his bedroom. Evan kept looking around at the walls around him and his gaze landed on a single shard that laid forgotten on the ground from Connor’s morning outburst. Connor watched as Evan’s eyebrows knitted together and his eyes flickered to meet Connor’s in silent question. Connor had to look away because it was too much. He ran his hand through his hair and turned to enter his bedroom silently, hoping Evan understood that he didn’t want to talk about that stupid shard or the vase or the reason why the vase was in pieces just like his stupid miserable brain.

“You can sit on my bed or chair or the carpet. Whatever you want.” Connor motioned around the room as threw his bag on the floor next to his bed. He noted it was neatly made, undoubtedly by Cynthia after she returned home. There was no sign of the bloodied pillowcase he left lying there just that morning. He wiped his palm on it after he cut himself on that _fucking_ vase. He scratched his forearm and climbed on the bed, feeling more exhausted than before.

Evan nervously shuffled in the doorway before hurrying towards the chair and sitting down, facing Connor on the bed.

“So do you want to divide the workload now or should we just pick the book and topic today? Or we could do both or just pick the book? I don’t care either way,” Evan rambled and looked around Connor’s room. It was bigger than Evan’s without a doubt, but also less lived in. He doubted Connor was the one who kept it so neat, considering the mess that was sprawled on his desk. There were three coffee mugs, some papers and sketchbooks, ink stains, CDs, pencils, and pens. Some dirty clothes littered the floor, but the ones behind the closet’s opened door were all neatly folded. The walls were light gray but there were a few dents in the paint where someone ripped off a poster too forcefully. The room felt slightly empty, and in Evan’s opinion it lacked some potted plants and pictures.

Connor looked at Evan from his bed. “We can pick a book and decide on the topic today. It’s in three weeks, so we have loads of time.” He propped himself on his elbows. “Do you have the reading list? I’d look it up online but I don’t have my laptop.”

“Uh… Yeah, yeah. Sure. I have it somewhere here.” Evan scrambled to get a hold of his backpack and scour through it for his Literature notebook. “Just a sec.”

“So, Hansen, you seem pretty normal,” Connor said as he propped himself on his elbows. The frown never leaving his face.

“Um… thanks?” Evan squeaked from the desk chair. He wasn’t sure where that came from.

“No,” Connor rolled his eyes but as soon as he did so he regretted it. He hoped Evan didn’t think he was annoyed. Because he wasn’t. Really. But knowing Hansen he was already beating himself up over this anyway. “I mean… I know you said you have an issue with talking to people.”

Evan laughed bitterly.

“But really,” Connor continued, “you’re as normal as it gets… so… why were you in the therapy group?”

Hansen sighed heavily. “I honestly have… I don’t know. You’d think group therapy for a guy with social anxiety is _not_ a good idea but apparently both my uh…. mom and Nina, m-my therapist disagree…” his fingers played with the rim of his cast as he mumbled, “but it’s whatever, you don’t need to know about all that,” he finished quickly and laughed anxiously before looking up at Connor who was still in the same position, but his frown bore less venom.

“Sounds like a shit therapist.” He shrugged. _At least your mom lets you go to one though._ He thought bitterly.

“She’s not bad…,” Evan mumbled and shook his head before continuing, “I’m just being difficult. Anyway! We’re not here to talk about my issues. English! Right?” He said quickly and he fumbled to find the list Mrs Prentiss gave them.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear the answer,” Connor said quietly because he needed Hansen to know he didn’t mind talking about other things besides English. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Was he, god forbid, trying to make friends with Hansen? IS this what making friends meant? Connor kind of forgot how to do that. Whatever. It’s hardly as if Evan would actually want to be Connor’s friend. For all he knew Evan thought he was some kind of freak who’d attack him for even talking, as he had every right to think. Connor wouldn’t even want to be his own friend.

He looked up to see Evan reading through their literature list and he frowned. Right. Project. He dragged himself off the bed.

“So. What do we have there?” Connor asked as he circled his bed and sat on the carpet at its foot so he’d be sitting next to the desk chair Evan was occupying.

“Basically what we did last year and like every classic you can list from the top of your head,” Evan said and waved his arm around.

“Really?” Connor smirked at Evan and asked before thinking, “Even Maurice by Forster?”

Evan scrunched his eyebrows, shooting Connor a confused glance before returning his eyes to the page. He gave it a quick once over and slowly said, “N… No. What… Why would you ask? What is that?”

“Ah never mind, it’s nothing, just my favorite classic. Unless you count modern classics too because then I’d say The Secret History,” he mumbled quickly and Evan could swear he saw a faint hint of blush on Connor’s face. Connor wasn’t exactly used to talking about his interests, especially books since everyone seemed to find it unbelievable he read as much as he did considering how shit his grades were. But especially not about books he liked because they featured tortured gay souls in them. To be honest, Connor just wasn’t used to talking to anyone. He knew how to yell, blame, and snarl. Talking was different, more difficult. Especially when the person you were talking to was someone who spooked and blushed as easily as Evan.

“Doesn’t matter,” Connor said and grunted as he reached from the ground to pull the list out of Evan’s surprisingly steady hands. Evan sat there, empty-handed, still gripping the ghost of the paper for a second or two before blinking a few times.

“Dracula, huh?” Connor pointed out as he surveyed the titles. It was all pretty standard kind of boring stuff.

Evan’s eyes were out of focus aimed at the wall as he scoffed, amused, “Of course you’d like Dracula. With your angsty energy and dark clothes and beautiful long hair.” He jerked back into reality it seemed and covered his mouth immediately after the sentence left it. “I didn’t....”

Connor could feel his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. Was he really such a walking cliche? “Didn’t mean to call my hair beautiful or call _me_ angsty?” he chuckled nervously and prayed his blush would disappear, “It’s cool. I know I look like a vampire I have _some_ self-reflection.”

“You kinda do,” Evan said and smiled but he kept his eyes glued to his knees.

“We could do Gatsby though?” Connor questioned as his eyes landed on the title near the bottom of the list.

Evan looked up at him, “Ye-Yeah. Yes. Sure. That sounds good.”

Connor quickly looked down again. “And now what? We read it and meet up again in a week to come up with a topic and essay outline?” he asked quietly and snapped the hairband on his wrist absentmindedly. Evan thought he almost looked embarrassed to be seen putting actual effort into a school assignment.

“Yeah. Cool. That’s cool with me, I mean,” Evan nodded. An awkward silence fell between them and Evan looked around the room nervously, his eyes dancing across the few posters he had there and the bookshelf which was overflowing with books Evan’s barely even heard of.

Connor kept snapping the hairband against his arm. For a minute it was the only sound that filled the air. Woosh. Snap. Woosh. Snap. Woosh. Snap. Evan felt like his breathing was way too loud. He desperately wanted to continue their conversation from before but his heart was thumping and Connor was frowning again.

“So I noticed you in therapy too…,” God that was such a weird way of addressing the elephant in the room, “and in school before. I mean, obviously, you signed my cast,” he rambled, his voice getting quieter with each word. Evan squeezed his eyes shut, cringing. _Way to ruin it, Hansen._

“Yeah…,” Connor said and coughed, looking at the floor.

“Why were you _really_ in therapy?” both of them blurted out at the same time and met each other’s eyes. Evan went bright red immediately and Connor chuckled nervously.

“You go first,” said Connor and eyed Hansen cautiously as if wasn’t willing to admit to any weaknesses before he was sure they weren’t used against him.

“I mean… It’s um, basically what I said earlier. Like I just… I can’t really socialise?” he said, raising his voice in question like he was asking Connor to understand. Like he needed him to _get it_ at least a little bit. “I have pretty bad anxiety and not just the emotion but the disorder. I’ve had it most of my life now, but it got worse this this-this summer.” He looked down to pick at his fingernails and to avoid Connor’s gaze which was occupied as traditionally by a frown and a resting bitchface.

He took a deep breath and continued. “It’s like anything I say is wrong and I can barely go to the grocery store without having a damn panic attack…” He glances up at Connor, who’s quietly observing him. “You, you must think I’m a weirdo. I mean who even is pathetic enough to be unable to talk to people. Like, come on, I have no real reason to be like this…” Evan’s speech quickened into babbling, in a desperate attempt to dig himself up from the hole of embarrassment. _Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop talking._

“I really did try to off myself,” Connor deadpanned once Evan was silent. Evan stopped breathing and just looked at Connor. His eyes seemed darker.

“If there’s a nutcase in this room it’s me,” he said bitterly, “I just can’t seem to fucking die. Instead, I just get high. Or I used to. Now I just… And there’s always the _buzzing_.” Connor sighed quietly, eyes unfocused because seeing Evan’s undoubtedly pitying expression would make him even more fucking irritated.

“I tried too, you know,” Evan said softly, surprising even himself how easily that dreaded sentence left his mouth. No squeaky voice, no stutter.

“Huh?”

“I… In the… During the summer break, I kind of climbed a tree?” Hansen started and he tapped his cast, which was on display ever since they sat down and he took off his hoodie, “And I thought ‘Hey, I’m high - no pun intended I _swear_ \- enough. Maybe if I _fell_ down I’d… Just disappear I mean it’s not like anyone would give a single fuck. I have no friends and-and I only bring my mom trouble.” He kept tapping the cast, speeding up, and it sent dull echoes through the plaster.

“So you let go?” Connor asked, his voice leveled, almost emotionless, but he stared at Evan with intent.

“Yes.” Evan gulped. His finger stopped tapping.

 _Where the fuck do you even go from a conversation like that?_ Connor thought. “Are you glad it didn’t work?" he asked tentatively.

“I… I guess so? Sometimes when I’m out in the park. Or-or when I’m watching Disney movies and I made a good batch of popcorn and it’s raining outside… Then I’m like ‘ok Evan this is what _good_ is like… But that’s only like 0.5% of my time alive so I don’t know. But I guess... Yeah,” rambled Evan, “A simple ‘yes’ would have been enough, I know, I’m sorry.” He cringed at the sound of his own voice,

Connor shrugged. “It’s cool. I kind of forgot that other people have thought processes too.”

A moment of silence spread between them only to be interrupted by Evan, “Are you? Glad, I mean?”

“Fuck no. It’s just worse now and the therapy didn’t help at all…” he trailed off, his eyes leaving Evan’s in embarrassment.

“I know… I know it’s weird coming from me,” Evan said, gesturing at his chest and making a disgusted grimace at the word ‘me’, “but therapy needs time and work to actually you know… w-work. Plus group therapy is bullshit anyway.”

Connor stayed quiet. He stood up after a minute and Evan briefly thought he’d tell him to fuck off but he just ran his hand through his hair a few times and said, “I need coffee. Wanna come downstairs with me? Don’t worry no one will probably be in the kitchen,” he added after seeing terror flash in Evan’s eyes.

“Uh, I should probably go home now anyway,” said Evan and started stuffing the paper back into his bag.

“Whatever.” Connor shrugged and waited by the door as Evan struggled with the zipper and the straps of the bag.

The whole way downstairs and to the entrance door, Connor was trying to come up with a not weird way to ask Evan for his number. So they could talk while reading the text, of course. Or just… talk. God, he was such a pathetic loser. So eager to make friends with the first fellow ‘tortured soul’ he came across. _So exactly like Hansen._ His brain supplied. _Shut the fuck up._ Connor barked internally at his own thoughts.

But of course that was when Evan blurted out, “Can I g-give you my number?” as they reached the door. _HA!_

“Uh… sure?” hoping his voice sounded as stoic as is always did. He pulled out his phone from his back pocket, opened a new contact form and handed it to eager wide-eyed Evan silently. “Here.”

Hansen’s hands were shaking and the phone was a lot warmer when Connor took it back but not even two minutes into Evan’s walk home his phone chimed with a message.

_this is connor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i wasn't writing this i'm not dead just hella depressed


	4. Unphotographable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a short scene with self harm. nothing too graphic or bad but still i thought i would warn you guys. also suicidal thoughts but that's kind of given considering... you know... connor.

Evan found a note from Heidi on the kitchen counter, saying she’s covering an extra shift and will be home late and that she’s sorry. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel upset over it because it was just how it was each time she’d promise to be home for the night. He picked up the note and threw it in the trash with a sigh when his phone buzzed. It was Connor again.

The frequency of their texts increases with each message and more than the fact that Connor seemed not to be annoyed with Evan he was surprised at how for a lack of better word ‘soft’ Connor sounded through texts. It was probably due to the lack of his snarl and uninterested eyes to accompany the words but he’d take it. 

***

“So, did Murphy try to drink your blood or try to maim you into a suicide pact yesterday?” Jared asked Evan the first thing in the morning when he ran up to him in the hallway, grinning snidely. 

Evan jumped, startled by Jared’s intense presence. “N-No!” He looked around the crowd of screaming teens, checking if Connor wasn’t near. “He was actually totally normal.” He frowned and his mind wandered to the soft confession Connor made about his attempt and the way he blushed slightly when Evan said his hair was beautiful. And yeah. Normal. 

“Sounds fake, but okay,” Jared proclaimed loudly, “Just don’t go replacing me as your best friend with him.”

Evan’s chest tightened around his heart.  _ Best friend? _

“Still need that car insurance money, baby!” Jared added.

_ Of course.  _ Evan’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t uh, don’t worry… I’m sure  _ he  _ doesn’t think I’m normal anyway,” Evan mumbled.

Jared eyed him skeptically as he dodged a guy carrying a huge sports bag. As if to spite him, Evan’s phone buzzed in his pocket and when he pulled it out he saw Connor’s contact name on the lit up screen, announcing a new text message. 

_ i’m gonna fucking commit if i have to pair up with someone for bio _

Jared leaned over to see Evan’s phone. “Oooh! Mr. School Shooter is unveiling his plans to you! Sounds romantic!”

Evan shot Jared an annoyed look.  _ Don’t you dare calling him that.  _ But the fact that Connor was willingly texting him something as casual as being frustrated with his class sent an unfamiliar warm feeling through his stomach. “You really shouldn’t… Don’t call him that, Jared,” he retorted as his fingers hovered over the screen. His eyes kept reading over the text while Evan meandered around more people in the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone.

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault he dresses like Kylo Ren and sends you texts like that.” Jared rolled his eyes. “Which on its own is fucking weird since he hasn’t talked to anyone because people are scared he’ll throw a printer at them if he does. So excuse me for  _ assuming _ the Prince of Darkness might have ulterior motives when you’re literally the jumpiest person on earth.”

_ Is it really so unbelievable someone would want to be my friend?  _ Evan wanted to argue back that it was the people’s fault they didn’t want to get to know him because he had anger issues but he felt like a hypocrite as soon as the thought appeared in his head. He was exactly like that too. Scared Connor was gonna lash out if he said anything wrong because it happened before, painting Connor as the angry dangerous monster everyone thought he was.  _ He’s not like that though. Not since we met in therapy. And before that Connor was in a bad place and Jared was horrible to him and then he saw the letter which would rile anyone up. But since then Connor seems to be really trying.  _ They finally entered their classroom but Evan’s brain was already spiraling into a stream of doubt as they sat down because of course Connor wouldn’t want to be his friend when his phone buzzed again. 

_ my class was an uneven number and we’re dissecting frogs so guess who’s digging through frog guts alone lol _

_ me. i am. _

Evan’s heart clenched at the visual of everyone pairing up and Connor being left alone but he couldn’t help but chuckle at his wording.

_ Ew. I would be scared I’d get sick at the sight of frog intestines. At least no one will tell you what to do, though.   _ He texted back and shoved the phone in his pocket before Jared who was sat next to him could read the messages and jump into another monologue about how Connor was a psychopath because he mentioned frog dissection.

_ I would protect you from the gross dead frogs.  _

Evan couldn’t help but smirk at the words for the first minute of their class while Jared shot him skeptical glances.

***

Normally Evan ate lunch with Jared and sometimes Jared’s friends but it just so happened to be the day of the week when they didn’t have lunch during the same period. Evan would usually just skip lunch or go outside to find an empty bench but it was too cold for that today. He decided to go to the library instead. He could eat his lunch there in peace and he might as well pick up a copy of The Great Gatsby as he seriously doubted his mom had one at home.

He passed the rows of the shelves, moving down according to the alphabet and when he finally reached the one he was looking for he was met with a hunched frame of the tall, long-haired Connor Murphy who was frowning at all of The Great Gatsby editions in front of him.

Evan’s heart immediately started thumping against his ribcage so loud he could hear the blood sloshing in his ears and his palms got sweaty.  _ What if he thinks I’m a freak that’s following him around? What if I say something embarrassing and he hates me forever? What if I say nothing at all and he hates me forever? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  _ He approached Connor slowly, trying to desperately think of something to say. “What did Fitzgerald do to you?”  _ That was  _ not  _ funny.  _

Connor jerked out of his trance and looked up at Evan who felt like he was suddenly standing too close to Connor. For a second his frown deepened into an angry scowl but as soon as his brain seemed to register who was talking to him it dissolved into a surprise. “What?” 

_ Well, he hates you now.  _ “I just… You-you were glaring at t-t-the books.”

“Oh,” Connor said softly and the corners of his lips turned up in a tentative smile. Evan really felt like he was standing too close. Should he step away? That would just bring more attention to it though. He looked at Connor’s face again and he saw one of his blue eyes had a speck of brown in it and it made him look breathtakingly beautiful in the dimmed light.  _ Wow.  _

“One of your eyes has brown in it,” he said without thinking and immediately regretted opening his mouth when Connor’s smile disappeared and he looked back at the bookshelf. “I mean. I never-never noticed. Well obviously because I never really stood so close next to you and I don’t mean that in a weird way or like it’s a bad thing but I just wanted to say that I meant it as a compliment because it looks pretty but not like weird pretty.” Oh God, his mouth kept on babbling and he couldn’t stop the stream of words coming out of his mouth but when he looked back at Connor he was startled but not frowning. 

“Uh… Thanks,” he mumbled, “I always thought it made me look like a freak.”

“N-No. Not at all,” Evan shook his head but kept his eyes on Connor’s hand that was touching spines of the books lightly. “It looks nice,” he mumbled.  _ Now he definitely thinks I’m a stalker. Why would I say that? He obviously feels self-conscious about it and I just practically yelled ‘Look!’ and pointed it out. It’s not like Connor wants to be his friend anyway he just got stuck with you on a project and the fact that you’re both messed up doesn’t change anything at all. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.  _

“I take it as you’re here to pick up a copy too,” Connor stated after a beat of tense silence. 

“Yeah.” he nodded and took a deep breath. He hoped it wasn’t audible how shaky it was.  “So how was the frog guts?”  _ Well, that was a bad take.  _

“Tasty.” Connor grinned. 

_ What.  _

Connor’s grin fell after he saw Evan’s raised eyebrows and continued, “Joking, Hansen.” 

“Oh.”

Connor took out one copy of The Great Gatsby from the bookshelf and was about to hand it to Evan. His face involuntarily reacted in horror before Evan’s brain even had time to fully process what he was reacting to. The tips of Connor’s fingers laid in sharp contrast with the minimalist white cover of the book they were gripping. Not because of the black nail polish he wore but because the skin around them was veiled in brownish red.  _ Dried blood.  _ It was behind and his fingernails where there was no nail polish, it was in the ridges of his skin. Evan reached out to take Connor’s hand but then he flinched so badly Evan almost retreated. He didn’t want to but considering Connor’s reaction, touching him was probably off the table. Instead, he pried the book out of Connor’s grip, slowly, carefully.

“Don’t,” Connor snarled just as Evan opened his mouth. “It won’t change anything.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” Evan nodded. Connor let out a relieved sigh. He wasn’t even sure what he meant. All he knew that blood had to come from somewhere and he was pretty sure Connor Murphy didn’t just have a nosebleed. 

“I’m gonna sit down somewhere here to eat lunch and start reading this,” Evan said in a weak voice and waved the book in his hand. “Y-you can join me if you want?”

Connor’s sunken eyes flickered and Evan was sure he was going to say no but then shrugged and nodded.  _ Okay. Okay. I didn’t fuck up too much. _

***

Connor was sitting on a closed toilet bowl, his head leaning against the cool board that made up the stall walls. His right hand was moving up and down, creating blissful friction. The entirety of his left forearm was raw and red as he scratched it more and more and more until he felt something wet on his fingertips. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His head was buzzing again and all he could think about all day was how he could use the nearest object as a means to his death. 

The bell rang.

Connor looked down, dazed. His skin was smeared with blood, gently tickling out of the little spots he gnawed off. The pads of his fingers were stained red, fading into brown. It was a gruesome sight and yet Connor could not feel a thing about it. He shoved his jacket sleeves back down not too gently, feeling the fabric burn against his exposed flesh. He dragged his body to his next period. 

He forgot about the stains on his fingers, the blood caked behind his fingernails.

He forgot about the blood until Evan motherfucking Hansen looked at his hand because he was holding a book and Connor saw his ever-scared yet pretty eyes widen in horror.  _ Fuck. Fucking shitfuck. Please don’t say anything Hansen. Please.  _

And he didn’t.

Hansen reached out with his hand and Connor thought he was going to grab his arm and make him roll out his sleeves, revealing what must look like skin rubbed vigorously with a cheese grater (Hah cheese grater. Funny.). So he flinched and of course, Evan saw that. For a second it seemed Evan was about to pull away but then he didn’t. Instead, he gently took the book out of Connor’s death grip and looked at his face. Evan tapped the book. 

_ Say something.  _

Evan took a deep breath. Opened his mouth to speak. Closed it.

“Don’t,” Connor snarled, his face scrunched into an irritated grimace, “It won’t change anything.” He didn’t need pity from someone as pathetic as Hansen. That would make him even more pathetic and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“Okay. Yeah. Okay,” Evan stammered and looked down briefly. “I’m gonna sit down somewhere here to eat lunch and start reading this. Y-you can join me if you want?”

_ He just thinks he can’t leave me alone or I’ll like slice my throat open or something. He wouldn’t be far off. Go fuck yourself, Hansen. No!  _ Connor fought with his own mind and despite wanting to run away and curl down at the back of his closet until everything went away he found himself nodding. 

Evan looked relieved and started walking towards the table area, glancing back at Connor. They sat down next to each other and started reading. Evan kept looking at Connor as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. After a while, he gave up and took a plain ham and cheese sandwich out of his backpack. Honestly, Connor thought it was the most depressing fucking food he’s ever seen. They both probably looked like complete losers. The quiet nervous kid who was too awkward to even be near and the scary angry one that people thought would stab them if they even looked him in the eyes. Connor’s leg started to bounce and he tried to focus on the text once again but no luck. The letters in front of him kept blurring an he felt like he read the line ‘Gatsby who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn.’ five times already. He looked up at Evan who was frowning at his own copy of The Great Gatsby. His shoulders were hunched like he was trying to fold himself down to be as small as possible. Connor thought Evan has a pretty nice looking nose from the side. He shook his head.  _ Get yourself together. Read. _ ‘If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him,’ he heard his inner voice read. ‘Something gorgeous… something… something gorgeous about him.’

“Fuck this,” Connor mumbled as he closed the book and took out his phone. 

Evan turned and looked up from his book. “Come on! You can’t give up reading that so fast.” 

“Woah. Getting pretty bold, Hansen.” Connor raised his hands in surrender and grinned. “Chill. I’m just getting my phone so I can find an audiobook of it and listen to it  _ while  _ I read.” He shrugged and started looking through his phone. 

“Oh.” Evan deflated and frowned. “W-w-why?”

Connor shrugged but started explaining anyway. “It helps me focus on the text. My mind has a tendency to wander off and the audio keeps me on track,” he said quietly.

“That… That makes sense, yeah.” Evan nodded and smiled. 

Connor raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and continued his search for a decent audiobook. 

They spent the rest of the lunch period sitting side by side in comfortable silence, occasionally saying something about a passage they just read. Connor was scared to admit to his own mind just how nice that felt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading so far! alex boniello reposted my art on his insta a few days ago and i legit could not be happier and will never shut up about it because connor is my fave of all faves and i drew him like 50 times before at least. check out my art on tumblr (http://teddyblk.tumblr.com) or on insta and twitter (teddyblk_) and to those who found my fics through art and vice versa thank you hope you don't hate this garbage :') <3


	5. Yet you're my favorite work of art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: this chapter contains a scene where evan is having a panic attack

After that strange encounter at the library, it became an unspoken rule that they met there during the lunch periods they shared. Which meant Jared got very suspicious very quickly which lead to Evan being annoyed and jumpier than usual.

“What’s gotten into you today?” Connor questioned, trying to keep his tone inviting and not irritated.

“N-n-nothing? What what do you mean? I’m fine! Great! Well, not great but normal. Or not normal but just like I am every day,” Evan rambled at the speed of light.

“Slow down, Evan.”

_ He called me Evan. _

“Clearly something’s up. So tell me,” Connor continued and looked at Evan quizzically. His eyes roamed around Evan’s distracted face who felt like an animal being watched before an attack.

Evan sighed. “It’s nothing. Really it’s  _ fine _ , I’m just being difficult but Jared’s been interrogating me why I don’t spend every single lunch break with him which is ironic because it’s not even like he’s ever nice to me when I do or like he talks to me when his friends are around I mean he said it himself, we only talk because of his stupid car insurance. Besides—”

“Woah woah woah.” Connor raised his hand towards Evan, motioning him to cool down, “First of all fuck Kleinman, he’s a dick, and you’re your own person who can spend his breaks wherever he wants. And second of all, did you say he talks to you only because of his  _ car insurance _ ? That’s kinda messed up.” He looked at Evan, puzzled. “I mean who am I to talk I have literally no friends but better none than Kleinman.”

Evan felt a wave of protectiveness rise in his chest at Connor’s words.  _ He’s right, you know? I mean not entirely but he is.  _ “S-sometimes he says that yeah.” Evan looked down, shrugging. “He he’s not that bad. And he’s the only only person that  _ does  _ talk to me, until now,” he said hesitantly and looked up at Connor that was looking like he was fighting his own brain to not be pissed off but failing.

“Well I’m your friend now too and I don’t need car insurance to talk to you,” Connor huffed and crossed his arms. “Fuck Kleinman,” he mumbled as he opened his book again, avoiding Evan’s eyes.

“We we’re friends?”

“I mean it’s cool if you don’t wanna be my friends I get it, I’m literally the worst—”

“No! I mean… Of course, I want to be your friend I just thought you wouldn’t because you only got stuck with me as a project partner.”

Connor put down his book again and looked Evan straight in the eye. “We text about school. We spend lunches together. We know about each other’s tragic teen issues. We’re friends.” He moved his arms like he was about to hold Evan’s shoulders but then he put them on his own knees. 

“Friends. Okay. Cool.” Evan smiled and knew he was starting to blush as Connor smirked at him briefly before returning to the text.

When the break was about to end so Evan started to put away his things when he was interrupted by Connor.

“Uh, do you want to come over again? We can actually start working on the project and maybe if my mom’s in a good mood she’ll let us play video games?”

“Y-y-yeah! I’ll have to ask my my mom, which I know is pathetic, but I’ll message you.” He took out his phone to quickly text his mom if she was coming home for dinner and if he could go to Connor’s house if not.

“Sure.” Connor shrugged and smiled when Evan was turned away again.

They walked together through the hallways on their way to classes and Evan wasn’t sure if it was just his anxiety talking or if people passing them were really looking at them strangely. Nevertheless, every time he felt like someone was giving them a weird look, he immediately saw Connor giving that person a death glare next to him. 

_ Sure you can, honey! I’m working until midnight anyway. Is Connor a new friend of yours? :)  _

“I can come over.” 

“What? Oh, right. Cool. Meet me in the parking lot after school again, I still don’t have my car.”

That meant another painful car drive with Mrs. Murphy or worse, Zoe, who albeit nice actually scared Evan because he used to have a crush on her for two embarrassing weeks a year before. 

_ Ok. We’re project partners for lit but yes a friend. _

_ That’s great sweetie! _

Evan shoved his phone in his pocket and scowled at the floor as he walked. She sounded so proud and yet it made Evan feel even more pathetic. When your mom is this excited about you finally making a friend on your own when you’re almost eighteen it’s pretty fucking bad. 

“See you,” Connor said as he looked him up and down with a concerned frown before heading towards his class.

“You too,” Evan replied only half-heartedly. Come on.  _ It isn’t Connor’s fault I’m a loser.  _

***

The ride to Connor’s house was better this time and Evan sent a silent thank you to whatever God was listening that it was Mrs. Murphy driving them and not Zoe. 

“Will you be staying for dinner?” Cynthia asked Evan warmly once they were inside and taking off their shoes.

“I-I-I,” Evan stuttered and looked at Connor in panic. His brain was basically caving in on itself because on one hand, his anxiety was telling him he had to say yes to be polite but on the other hand staying for dinner meant talking to Connor’s parents and talking to Zoe and eating in front of people and what if they ask something while he’s chewing and he starts choking and looking gross and Connor will hate him forever. 

Connor watched as Evan’s panicked eyes kept flicking between him and Cynthia and he was clearly internally spiraling. “He’ll stay,” he decided to answer for Evan while trying to telepathically convey that it was gonna be okay, despite knowing Evan wouldn’t believe him.

“That’s great!” Cynthia smiled cheerfully and departed towards the living room, “Good luck on your project boys.” 

“What the hell?” Evan whispered accusingly and threw his hands up as soon as they were alone.

“You looked like your brain was about to combust. What was I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know! Now I’m gonna have to talk to your parents and sister for thirty minutes and that might actually kill me,” he huffed and threw himself down on Connor’s desk chair with crossed arms.

“Don’t worry about it, they’ll probably want to adopt you by the time dinner is done. You’re like a miracle compared to me,” Connor mumbled and started picking at strands of a carpet he sat on, “Besides, I’ll just tell them to fuck off or cause a scene if you’ll feel uncomfortable,” he finished cheerfully and shrugged.

“First of all, please don’t. And second of all, I feel uncomfortable literally all the time so that would be difficult.” 

“Fine. Oh, and by the way, dinner will probably be gross, because Mom is trying to force us all into a new diet one of her spiritual friends recommended so pretty much everything she makes until she gets bored of it in two weeks is gonna be bad.” Connor shrugged. “Let’s get this started, shall we?” He reached for his laptop.

They bickered over some interpretations for a while but for the most part, they were able to work well together and finished the first draft of their project. Connor was faster at typing than Evan so he wrote most of it on his laptop, while Evan cited quotations and formulated the points they agreed on into sentences. At one point Evan leaned very close to Connor to look at the screen. Connor could feel his body’s warmth and smell his apple-scented shampoo and see the freckles on his nose. When Evan asked a question about something he wrote it took Connor a while before he realized he was supposed to answer.  _ Wow. That was embarrassing. Stop being creepy.  _

Cynthia let them play video games in the living room while she was still preparing dinner.  And although Evan was getting his ass kicked he was actually having fun. Connor gave him tips and comments to help him improve his technique, unlike Jared who Evan suspected never explained any of his video games to Evan just so he could keep winning.

Dinner started off well and despite Connor’s warning, it was actually pretty tasty. Although quiet, Zoe kept staring between Evan and Connor like something was wrong which made Evan’s palms sweat. Then Mr. ‘Please call me Larry’ Murphy started questioning Connor about his grades and if he was behaving at school. 

“Don’t think that mess you caused last month will excuse your lousy habits,” he said after Connor rolled his eyes and said he couldn’t care less about his maths grade. Evan assumed ‘that mess’ was referring to Connor’s attempt and he had to squeeze the fork he was holding very tightly so he would calm the searing anger he felt bubbling in his chest. 

Connor eyed Evan’s white-knuckled grip. “Of course not, Larry.” He barked at his dad, trying to focus on the mushy food in front of him or anything at all so he wouldn’t scream at Larry all the insults that were fighting to spill out of his mouth.  _ That mess. He couldn’t even say it. He probably thought Evan would badmouth their family name if he knew Murphy’s son was a psycho. Ha! I tried to fucking KILL MYSELF, LARRY! SAY IT!  _ He took a bite and tried breathing slowly. If only his stupid hands stopped shaking. _ Like me almost dying was some big fucking show I put up. Like it was an inconvenience to our family. It probably was. I am after all a giant fucking inconvenience that can never ever do anything fucking right. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Maybe if I took that knife that’s right there and just…  _ Evan’s knee bumped against his. Connor looked around to throw a quick glance at Hansen who was just politely talking to his mom and Larry about the project they were working on. Connor felt Evan’s calf move closer so their legs were touching more. Zoe was looking at her plate, eating quietly. He took a few more breaths.  _ No knife. It’s ok. You’re here now.  _

Dinner was done and Cynthia was taking the dishes away and Zoe stood up and left the room without a word. She was probably still terrified of Connor or just didn’t wanna talk. He wasn’t surprised. 

“Do you need a ride home, Evan?” Larry asked.

“I can drive him,” Connor said n what he hoped was a neutral tone. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Larry replied coolly.

“It’s not like I’m going to fucking crash the car,” Connor mumbled barely audibly but before Larry could get angry and ask him to repeat himself, Cynthia chimed in.

“Alright, but take your phone and be quick.” She and Larry exchanged a silent argument between them consisting of eye and eyebrow movements Evan didn’t even try to decipher. 

“Thanks.” Connor raised his eyebrows and blinked. He did not expect that. “Come, on Evan,” he said and got up quickly before his father had time to put his foot down or his mom changed her mind.

“T-thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Murphy. It was very nice!” Evan called as Connor dragged him by his shirt towards the exit.

They sat down in what Evan presumed was Connor’s car, deducing from the empty cigarette packs, tiny skeleton dangling from the rearview mirror and subtle lingering smell of weed that someone tried to cover up with rose scented spray.

“Sorry, that was a disaster.” Connor was fumbling with the controls and set up the radio to some alternative music station.

“It-it was fine honestly.”

Connor sighed and without a word pulled out of their driveway. “Thanks, by the way,” he said quietly after a few minutes of driving. “For… you know…” He looked at Evan and then back on the road. Mick Jagger’s singing about dancing in the street with David Bowie was softly playing from the speakers The sun has set and Evan’s face was only illuminated by the fluorescent blue of the car’s control buttons. Connor couldn’t tell for sure but he thought it looked like he was blushing.

“O-of course.” 

***

If it was avoidable Evan wouldn’t be approaching Connor in the hallways while he was walking with Jared but their project deadline was coming up fast and he needed to go over their presentation points because some of them didn’t make sense. Evan suspected Connor wrote them when he was very sleep-deprived or high. He tried to not think about how fast was his heart beating when he steered Jared towards the locker Connor was rummaging through. 

“Connor!” Evan called after him to get his attention which resulted in Connor jerking back from behind the locker’s door and giving Evan an angry glare.

“What?!” he barked. Evan started to panic and Jared started opening his mouth to insult him when Connor closed his eyes shut, opened them and shook his head. “Sorry. Bad morning. What’s up?” he said visibly calmer, but his hand still gripped the door too tightly.

“N-n-not much, I just wanted to…,” Evan struggled to get words together, “I thought we could go maybe through some of the presentation points again but if you don’t wanna talk now that’s okay sorry for annoying you,” he blurted out at once.

“Sure. Not your fault.”

Jared’s eyes kept flying between the two of them in confusion and when Evan started to say ‘Sorry’ again he interrupted. “Well, this is just too fucking weird for me to witness so I’m gonna go now.” He pointed finger guns at them both before backing away to rejoin the stream of meandering students. “Bye! And I mean bye not as in BI!” he yelled at Evan and winked before disappearing.

“ _ Jared _ !” Evan screeched in alarm back but it was in vain since Jared was way too far away already anyway.

Connor had his arms crossed over his chest and he was squinting after Jared. “What was that about?” he said and motioned with his chin towards the direction of Jarred’s disappearance.

_ Why would Jared say that? Why would he do that to him? He’s gonna think I’m some creepy gay who’s stalking him to get into his pants.  _ “Nothing. N-nothing!”

Connor raised one eyebrow like he obviously knew Evan was lying. “Hansen, are you bi?” he said loud enough so that only Evan would hear him and leaned in closer.

_ Shit. He knows. Abort mission!  _ “No! I mean. Yes. Maybe. Kind of.” Evan was looking at his hands that were fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. His hands were too hot. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Connor questioned but his tone wasn’t angry or disgusted.  _ Thank God.  _ He sounded curious. Maybe even hopeful.

Evan felt like he was about to go into cardiac arrest with how fast his heart was beating. “I mean yeah I’m bi but it’s like 90% boys 10% girls,” he said so fast he thought Connor wouldn’t even be able to understand him and finally looked up to see his reaction. 

Connor was smiling. Not smirking or grinning, but actually smiling. It was a careful and small smile but it was there and it was aimed at Evan. “Cool,” he said and continued after hesitating, “I mean. I’m gay. But that’s pretty obvious. Also demi-romantic but that’s whatever.” He shrugged and closed his locker.

_ WHAT? I felt some vibe to be honest but wow. Nice! Wait… what?  _ “A-a-actually it isn’t.” Evan shrugged and smiled too.  _ Did I and Connor Murphy of all people just come out to each other? Is that what happened? What? _

“Hah. Tell that to fucking Larry. Or anyone at this school.” Connor scoffed and gripped the strap of his bag nervously.

Evan wanted to continue talking. He wanted to make that shared moment last forever so desperately. The bell went off and Connor waved at him and walked away with a “Bye!” and a smirk. And when Evan sat down in his Biology class his phone buzzed.

_ it was shitty of kleinman to out you like that tbh but i’m glad. _

_ not that u got outed obviously but that u told me. _

_ and that i told u too. _

***

They spent a lot of time on the Literature project. It was very thorough an included secondary texts and was overall above high school standards in Evan’s opinion. Connor would never say so but he was definitely proud too. They practiced the presentation at least six times. It was good. It was great. And yet Evan felt like he was on the verge of throwing up ever since he woke up that morning with the knowledge that he was going to have to stand in front of the whole class and talk for five minutes at least. It was stupid anyway, if you asked Evan, that they had to include an oral presentation for a goddamn  _ Literature  _ project. Wasn’t that supposed to be about reading? And analyzing? 

“I’m gonna go to the toilet,” Evan announced after sitting silently next to Connor and gripping his flashcards to the point where they looked crumpled when he left them behind.

Connor hummed in agreement, too busy looking through their powerpoint and printed papers to look up as Evan bolted out of the library. It took him a minute to register that Evan was missing and another two to start thinking that Evan should have been back by then. After five minutes Connor couldn’t focus on the project in front of him at all.

_ r u alive hansen?? _

_ seriously tho  _

_ i’m getting kinda worried _

No response. Fuck. What if something happened to him? What if he’s getting his head pushed into the toilet bowl by some douche? Connor packed his things and glanced over at the chair next to him that had Evan’s bag. He sighed, zipped it up and sling both of the bags over his shoulder. Hopefully, Hansen was in the nearest bathroom. Suddenly, Evan texted him something that seemed like it was supposed to be ‘I’m fine’ but ended up looking more like a keysmash. And that’s when Connor broke into a run. He could feel his ears burning and lungs tightening as he hurled down the corridor.

_ I just hope he’s in there.  _ He pushed past a group of chattering girls and rounded a corner so quickly he almost slipped. Finally, he opened the bathroom door. It was empty.  _ What? _ Connor examined the stalls. They were all flung open except for the ones at the far back. Slowly, he approached. He could feel his uneven breath slowing as he raised his hand to knock. He stopped.

“Evan? You in there?” he spoke softly.

Silence. And then a loud, shallow intake of breath came from the other side of the cheap plywood door. 

“Can I come in? I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Nothing. “Please.”

Connor nervously shifted his weight between his legs. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? It sounded like Hansen really wasn’t okay but he couldn’t just break down the door. Fuck.

He could hear Evan take in another breath. Then there was a click and the door creaked open slowly. Connor thanked all the nonexistent deities as he dropped both of their bags on the gross cracked floor tiles and pushed the door open completely. And there was Evan Hansen. He was sitting on the closed toilet, legs folded in front of his chest, hands around his shins and he shook like a leaf in autumn with ragged breaths. His beautiful face was red, puffy and cheeks tear-stained. Evan looked up at Connor for a second or less with his eyes so tear filled they glistened like glass and Connor felt hopeless. He immediately looked away and continued to shake, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly Connor was terrified he was actually going to fall apart.  _ What do I do? What do I do? He’s obviously having a panic attack, right?  _ He squatted down so he would be under Hansen’s eye level. His own hands were shaking.

“Alright. I have no idea what I should be doing right now. Just. Please breathe, okay?” Connor started, his voice calm and quiet. He slowly put his hands on Evan’s upper arms watching his face for a negative reaction. When there was none he nodded and continued. “I’m gonna count.” He started counting until ten, instructing Evan to breathe in and then out on a new count of ten. And to Connor’s surprise he responded and after a few minutes, Evan’s shaking subsided although his eyes were still pouring out tears like rain.

“I-I-I’m—,” Evan started when he calmed down enough to be vocal.

“Shh, Evan.” Connor shook his head. “I know you’re gonna say you’re sorry and you probably feel like I hate you now and you’re embarrassing, pathetic and an inconvenience.” Evan nodded shakily, averting his eyes. “Well you’re none of those things and you don’t have to be sorry and I sure as fuck don’t hate you, otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” Connor finished resolutely. 

Evan gulped, nodded and started furiously wiping away at his cheeks. Connor nodded back and patted his arms awkwardly before he let go. Hopefully, Hansen didn’t think it was weird he kept them there for so long. He sort of wanted to wipe Evan’s tears away.  _ Where did that come from, brain? _

Evan let his legs slide off the toilet seat cover and glanced at his knees. “I-i-it’s all because… It was because of that  _ stupid  _ presentation,” he spat out in frustration, his words sounding weirdly wet from the snot and tears he kept wiping off and that kept coming back. “I j-j-just kept thinking about how I’m going to f-f-f-forget my points and and and then I’ll start rambling and it will all be bad and everyone will be looking and and…,” his voice started to shake and breaths became quicker.

“Hey. No. Evan,” Connor interrupted him trying to steer him away from that train of thought.   _ Of course. How did it not occur to me that someone with severe social anxiety will not be okay with public speaking? Shouldn’t the school know and excuse him? Fucking hell.  _ “Forget about that fucking presentation. Gatsby can suck my dick.” Connor patted Evan’s knee, unsure how to provide comfort or how to deal with serious emotions. “I’m gonna talk to Prentiss. I’ll give her our paper and the USB and then I’m driving you home because there’s no way you can go to classes like this, no offense. Luckily I got my car back for now.”

Evan started shaking his head vehemently and tearing up again. “No. No, I can’t. I can’t miss class.”

“Yes, you can. Come on.” Connor jerked his head towards the sinks and got up, feeling his knees ache from squatting for so long. Eventually, Evan got up and Connor patiently waited as he washed his face. 

After that Connor half lead, half dragged Evan to the teacher’s room. He left Evan on a bench around the corner as he asked for Mrs. Prentiss and explained everything that happened to her surprisingly calmly. She was skeptical, probably because Connor didn’t have the reputation of a trustworthy student, but then he shoved the printed papers with annotations and his USB drive with the powerpoint into her hands with, “It was real bad, okay? We worked really hard on this and Hansen wouldn’t sabotage his grades if it wasn’t serious.”  _ He goes to therapy and takes meds for this you stupid bitch! GOD!  _

“Alright.” She looked him up and down before nodding and smiling. “Just make sure Evan gets home safe, okay? I’ll talk to the guidance counselor about alternative options for presentations.”

“Okay.” Connor squinted at her in suspicion. “Thank you.” They said goodbye and Connor gladly left to go take Hansen home. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. 

After he asked Evan approximately ten times if he would be okay if Connor left him home alone and Evan got slightly irritated and told him to stop treating him like a maiden in distress he drove away. His phone buzzed on the shotgun seat. 

_ Thank you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys hope you liked this please leave a comment if you'd like to read more of this and/or what were your favourite parts in particular so far :')


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